by Dawson, Zoe
“Yeah, it’s a cluster all right.”
Aiden laughed, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “You look good, man. Much better than the last time I saw you.”
He nodded. “I didn’t think I was going to make it.”
“I told you that you would. No way that shit wasn’t going to happen.”
Jared nodded. “It was all you, son.”
“It was both of us. You held on to life and I carted your ass over hill and dune.”
Jared laughed. “You saved my life, Aiden.”
For a moment, Aiden’s eyes shuttered and the ordeal they’d shared was front and center. But, with a blink, Aiden buried it. Jared knew from experience that wasn’t going to help.
“Don’t you say you didn’t deserve it or I’ll punch you in the mouth and get my new suit messed up. Emma will skin me.”
“I have three inches on you and about fifty pounds, rich boy.”
“I can take you.”
“No one is going to take any one out. Both of you get your cans back in there before Poe comes out here and discovers you taking this trip down memory lane!”
“Geezus, Harper. Lighten up.”
“Give me a break, Aiden. Please.”
“All right.” He grabbed her around the neck and squeezed.
“Let me go, you idiot.”
Aiden laughed. “Listen, Jared. Let’s go out sometime and get a drink. Catch up.”
Jared nodded. “Yeah. And that fiber shit, man, it’s off the charts.”
“Thanks.”
They left, but he stayed rooted to the spot. They had narrowly missed ruin tonight, and Jared didn’t know if he could walk away from Poe the way Harper expected him to do. Could he walk away after this was over? All he had to do was close his eyes, and he could almost smell her…that sweet mix of woman and something uniquely Poe. How was he supposed to live without that? He could share her smiles and the sound of her voice. He could share the five earrings in one ear, the belly button ring, and at least one of her tattoos. Even the amazingly kooky way she dressed, but not the way she arched into him when he had his mouth on her, not the way she tasted. That was private, sacrosanct, only between them. It was primal, the way he breathed her in. It had knotted around his gut and sunk its talons into his psyche.
He dragged his hand back through his hair. For the most part, he handled his own demons. But the sheer relief of having her support him, just listen had been unexpected, and was already something he’d rather not do without. He suspected Aiden wasn’t doing that.
“Jared,” Harper said, her voice hushed and insistent.
He walked to the end of the alley and gave her a narrow-eyed glare, and she straightened.
“For Poe,” she said, ruthlessly playing her ace in the hole.
He entered the gallery.
His gaze zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. His throat got tight as she laughed at something Brooke said. She turned her head and met his gaze and she smiled at him, a private, this-one-is-only-for-you smile. His heart flipped over in his chest. She was so damn beautiful. He’d never seen a face like hers, so perfectly shaped, every feature delicate, balanced, and heavenly. Knowing Poe, she would explain the golden ratio to him, very matter-of-factly. It was simply a matter of the angles, a formula for creating proportions pleasing to the human eye.
He huffed out a short breath.
He loved when she lapsed into those scientific explanations like diphthongs and CBCs and the king of hearts without a mustache.
As he approached, Aiden glanced at him with a blank face. He was good at this spy stuff. Jared was sure he was good at other kinds of concealment, too.
“Jared, come meet Aiden. He’s the fiber artist,” Poe said.
“Nice to meet you,” he said.
“We were just asking him about his creations. The use of the fabrics like wool, linen and silk,” Poe said, smiling.
“Yes, it’s so glossy and gorgeous,” Brooke said.
“The protein fiber of silk is composed mainly of fibroin and produced by certain insect larvae to form cocoons,” aaaaaand she’s off! Jared had to stifle a grin he knew she’d misinterpret. “The best-known type of silk is obtained from the cocoons of the larvae of the mulberry silkworm Bombyx mori, which is reared in captivity. The shimmering appearance of silk is due to the triangular, prism-like structure of the silk fiber, which allows silk cloth to refract incoming light at different angles, thus producing different colors.”
“It’s an expensive textile, that’s for sure.”
Aiden nodded. “Poe is very knowledgeable about silk. I’ve only recently learned about it, myself. What is the name of the production again, Poe?”
“Sericulture. Cocoons are cultivated for the filament they are composed of.”
“Are they gathered from the wild?” Callie asked.
“Not usually. Farmers, mostly in China, raise the moths in tightly-controlled conditions. The silk worm begins life as an egg, then becomes a silk worm, then a pupa, and finally a moth. The silkworm, when ready to become a pupa, secretes a protein-like substance through its head to form the cocoon. Some silkworms are allowed to become moths to propagate the species, but most are harvested at this stage to be used in silk production.”
“All I know is I love shantung silk.” Aiden said.
“There are actually eight types of silk familiar to western clothiers,” she continued, oblivious to Jared’s starry-eyed, affectionate amusement, “although there are more around the world: charmeuse, China silk, crepe de Chine, doupioni, noil, raw silk, shantung and tussah.” She counted them on her fingers as she remembered them all. Charmeuse is what most people think of when they think of silk. The back of the fabric is flattened crepe, or simply wrinkled, woven fabric, and the front has a shimmery satin weave. China silk, also ‘plain silk,’ is the least expensive. The fabric is lightweight and shiny. Crepe de Chine is made by twisting some fibers clockwise and others counterclockwise before weaving, producing a pebbly texture. I’d say that’s what you used in your piece, Aiden.”
“I did, actually. Good eye.”
“The fabric is lightweight and does not ravel easily like other silks; however, it tears easily.”
“Yeah it was tricky to work with, but I liked the effect.”
“I do, too. It gives it more character. But shantung is gorgeous. It’s woven with a mix of regular silk thread and doupioni silk thread. Depending on the exact threads used, the fabric may be shiny or dull.”
“I like the shiny stuff.”
“That’s our Harper. She loves the bling.”
“Yes, anything sparkly.”
He bent down and whispered in Poe’s ear. “You’re turning me on with all this intellectual talk.”
She whispered back, “Stop distracting me, you bad man, and get me some champagne.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and found a waiter and the damn finger food. The man looked so shocked and lost when Jared simply lifted the platter right off his hand.
He looked at Poe. Laughter twinkled in her eyes. When he got back to her, she took one of the crab puffs off the tray along with one of the two glasses of champagne.
“Who is the man who is accosting my wait staff?” a dark-haired woman asked as she joined their little group.
“That would be the guy I brought with me,” Poe said, indicating Jared with her thumb.
Jared raised his glass, and said, “Jared Taylor. Not a lover of the finger foods category of cuisine.”
“Emma Hudson, soon to be Cross. That’s my fiancé over there near the abstract watercolor.”
“Well, congratulations on your opening. Looks like quite the success to me.”
“This one looks like a keeper to me, Poe.”
She coughed on her crab puff, and Jared tapped her back as she took a sip of champagne.
“Are you all right, or do I have to do mouth to mouth?” He said, his voice carrying over the music and the general din of conversation.
Shortly after that they left the gallery and caught a cab home. “I’m starving,” he said when they entered her apartment, and Poe chuckled.
“I’ve got soup. I’ll rustle you up some grub.”
He tickled her and she jumped away from him, “Hey, none of that,” she scolded. “I’m way ticklish.”
“You shouldn’t have told me that.”
“Stay back or no soup for you.”
He laughed. “What about bread?”
“Don’t push it,” she said, chuckling.
He went into the bedroom to change into shorts and a t-shirt, but Daisy sidetracked him with her grumbling demand for petting.
“That smells really good,” he said when he returned.
Domestic looked way too damn good on her as she puttered around the kitchen. He’d known lust and had come close to losing his heart before, but nothing like this ache, this craving. He could easy spend time with her until it dwindled down to nothing. Would he get that chance?
Poe wasn’t even doing anything particularly remarkable or cute at the moment. She was heating some soup and making coffee. Still in the skull dress, but sans the sexy rose sandals, she looked good barefoot in the kitchen.
“Don’t get too excited,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear, “but I made blueberry muffins, too. They’re from a box, but Betty Crocker assures me they’re real blueberries, and Betty would never lie.”
If she had even a clue of how easily she excited him, she’d run for the hills. Maybe that was what was going on in her mind. Maybe he was coming on too strong, and the glimpses he saw of her unease were connected to that.
She bent over and pulled a muffin tin out of the oven and set it on the stove. She ladled out the soup and set the muffins into a basket. Pouring two cups of coffee, she asked, “Cream?”
“Just a dollop.”
She set the food on the counter and came around the small island, settling into the chair next to his.
So it was now both comfortable between them and somewhat awkward. He wasn’t sure exactly why, except maybe she was feeling crowded.
They dug into the food, neither speaking for several long moments.
“What was going on between you and Aiden Sinclair?”
“What? What do you mean?” His stomach dropped like a stone.
“There was something there in your body language, like you knew him, but that’s not possible, is it?”
He took a deep breath, damning her observant nature. He didn’t want to lie to Poe, and as a security specialist and a former Marine, he knew how to bend the truth. “Aiden was a Marine, too. I guess it’s innate after serving. All fellow Marines are brothers.”
“Oh, that explains it.” Her voice was subdued. “He was wounded, too, and she doesn’t talk about it much. I know she and her family are relieved Aiden is out of the military.”
She spooned up a bite of soup, swallowed.
She covered his hand. “I’m grateful for the military, but,” she said her voice hushed, “I’m glad you’re out, too. Safe and sound.”
“For the most part.”
“I am sorry about that.”
He shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”
“I’ve experienced real fear just recently. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live that 24/7, or even for one harrowing night.”
He covered her hand and they sat that way for a few moments.
“I should get this cleaned up.”
“I’ve got it,” he said, jumping to his feet. “You cooked. I’ll pick up.”
She smiled. “I’m going to change then, and we can take the dogs out.”
“Sounds good.”
He was just finishing up when he heard Poe swear, then the door hit the wall and she was shouting.
He bolted out of the kitchen, quickly closing the door before the dogs could escape. In his bare feet, he pelted toward the front of her building, just catching a glimpse of her as she disappeared down the stairs.
His heart in his throat, he burst out of the front doors and saw her round the corner of the block. “Poe!” he yelled, but she didn’t slow.
He took off after her, and when he rounded the edge of the block, he stopped dead when he saw her standing on the sidewalk, searching.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
“Trying to catch the man who’s slipping these frigging threatening letters under my door.”
“What were you going to do when you caught him?” He grabbed her shoulders, the fear for her safety making his voice gruffer than he meant it to be.
“I don’t know. Find out what the problem is. Find out what I did to him.” She broke his grip and paced away. “I can’t stand this anymore.” Her voice cracked.
He wanted to go to her, but her body language was clear. She didn’t want comfort right now. She wanted, needed, to vent. He held his ground while she paced, then stopped and clenched her fists.
“I’m sorry.” She turned to face him. “You didn’t really sign up for this and, although I appreciate your help, this isn’t your problem.”
He folded his arms across his chest and frowned. An unexpected wave of frustration swept through him.
“Do you actually think that I could stand by and watch you do something as foolish as chase an unknown man down darkened streets in your bare feet…and do nothing?”
Her eyes turned thunderous and she marched over to him. “Do you think I need a keeper?” She poked him in the chest. “I don’t! I’ve gotten along quite well on my own. People like you think just because you’re big and strong you can go all arrogant and dictate how I’m going to live my life. I won’t be kept in the dark or have someone fight my battles for me. I had enough of that.”
“You mean something to me…”
“What? We’re not dating.” She waved a slender hand in the air between them, grasping for the right words. “We’re just…having an affair.”
The corner of his mouth twitched with exasperation and, truth be told, unexpected hurt. She made their relationship sound so brief and impersonal, and he was justifiably annoyed she wanted to pretend things were so superficial, when that was very, very far from reality.
She turned on her heel and left him standing there. He watched her retreating back.
He’d touched a nerve, and that might just be what was causing her so much turmoil.
When he got back to the apartment, she was slipping her flip-flops on and leashing The Terrible Two.
He shut the door and leaned against it. “Poe, I’m not trying to rule your life or keep you in the dark.” He had to hold back the wince on that one. “It’s in my nature to be protective of people I care about.”
“I care about you, too,” she said grudgingly. “Don’t listen to me tonight. I’m nonsensical.”
“You’re probably the only person I know who would say nonsensical at a time like this.”
Her eyes flashed. “You’re very bossy and persistent, you know that?”
“And you’re very stubborn, so I think that makes us just about even, wouldn’t you say?” He lifted a brow, daring her to contradict him.
She rolled her eyes and huffed out an irritated sigh. “I just hate this, Jared. I can’t solve the problem when the person is elusive and refuses to face it head-on.”
“I know. But that’s not on you. In fact, you were so fierce tonight, you just might have scared him off.” Framing her face between his hands, he brought her mouth to his and kissed her, long and slow and deep.
With a sign of acquiescence and a snort of laughter, she twined her arms around his neck. He held her against him, knowing that when this was all over and the threat was past, he would have to find a way to explain why he’d had to keep her in the dark.
He could only hope she accepted his explanation and didn’t shut him out of her life forever.<
br />
Chapter Twelve
Time passed too quickly, and after a few more sessions with Jared, she might have to accept the fact that she couldn’t win this contest with him as her partner. Daisy was doing so much better, but even with her improvement, it wasn’t enough. After two and a half weeks, even though Jared knew the routine, he still looked awkward and uncoordinated.
She was currently having lunch with the girls after a very busy morning on the job at St. Mark’s.
“How goes the competition?” Callie asked. “You guys have been there every night this week.”
“I’m afraid it’s not good.”
“Oh, no,” Brooke said, looking sympathetic.
“Well, at least he’s good to look at. I mean, wow.”
“Yeah, sign me up for that rodeo,” Brooke said.
“He’s a very decent guy,” Harper said.
Poe looked at her. “Really, nothing about how hot he is? That surprises me.”
“I would definitely sit him in the hot seat,” Harper confirmed. “All I’m saying is he’s a good man.”
“How do you know that?”
Harper looked away and Poe got a strange, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Harper?”
“I got a chance to talk to him at the gallery opening. That’s all.”
Callie and Brooke exchanged looks. “Are you okay, Harper?”
“I’m just worried about Aiden.”
“Why? What’s wrong with Aiden?”
“He’s not the same man who left. War changed him, and I’m not sure how to help.”
“In what way?”
“A newfound cynicism. He’s more withdrawn. He won’t even debate with my father. It’s different. I feel like there’s a wall between us.”
Poe covered her hand. “Maybe he just has to work through it himself. Sometimes I see that flash of sadness in Jared’s eyes. It was there the night of the gallery opening. I could have sworn he knew Aiden, deep down. But, of course, he didn’t. But with the both of them former Marines, I guess there is a bond.”
“They do have a bond.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just the same frame of reference and experiences,” Harper added, biting into her roast beef.